


Scholarly Talk

by Arithanas



Category: Prometheus (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written anonymously in reply to this prompt left in <a href="http://prometheuskink.livejournal.com/">Prometheus Kink Meme</a></p><p>Fifield/Millburn: Good old fashioned smut<br/>I loved these guys and were heartbroken when they were gone, so, to heal my heart, I would like to request some porn. Top Fifield preferred but I'll take whatever the author would like to give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scholarly Talk

After lunch they the captain allowed them to relax and shake of the last of the cryosleep; half of the crew displayed varying degrees of confusion and uneasiness, the other half was just cranky like people who slept too damn much. Milburn was neither, perhaps he was a little too uneasy among unfriendly strangers, so he set his mind on prepare his laboratory, maybe they could find some interesting specimens in the promised expedition. He idled his time with petri dishes and test tubes until a door slides behind him and a shadow poured over his back and his table.  
  
"I'm kind of a jerk when I oversleep," Fifield's voice was cantankerous, "Or when I don't sleep enough..."  
  
Well, maybe he was a jerk, period. Milburn smiled: "If that was an apology, consider it accepted."  
  
"It wasn't. I failed to hear your major. Biology?" Fifield said, leaning his weight on the table.  
  
Milburn nodded, and clarified: "Environmental biology."  
  
"Your field of study is life, isn't it?"  
  
"The study of how the environment affects the life forms, to be more precise."  
  
"How come you are not experimenting now, Mr. Biology? You have cattle of twenty to describe the effects of hypersleep."  
  
"Its effects have been widely reported, that's why we know it's safe, but it could be a good hobby to gather data."  
  
"Here is a piece of information for your investigation," Fifield approached to Milburn's ear and whispered: "I'm horny as fuck."  
  
"A well reported effect," Milburn said, turning his head to brush his lips over Fifield's. "There is a very natural remedy for it."  
  
"Care to share?" Fifield almost speak the words in Milburn's mouth.  
  
"Fuck as if you are horny."  
  
"It's good to have specialists..."  
  
Milburn was a little shocked. It was not his habit to hook up with strangers but this man was a fever dream, confusing and hot as hell. Also, he was good to get rid of small obstacles, like Milburn's pants with his hard, rugged hands of a man of field work. Suddenly, his biology-related curiosity wanted to ensure if there was another parts of his anatomy with equal sturdiness. Empirically, his hand discovered found an amazing proof of evidence.  
  
"Tell me about your experience on the area" Fifield said with sultry voice and slow cadence, "Do you like to impart knowledge or you are open to research?"  
  
"Right now, I would like to try new protocols of investigation," There was no way in hell he was going to miss an opportunity to put new specimens to the test.  
  
"I'm always eager to share my expertise."

Milburn hand touched the table, his fingers scurrying among the small laboratory equipment in search for the hydrocarbon based grease while Fifield seized the opportunity to kiss him again and to cope a feel beneath the hoodie. Milburn distributed the content of the grease tube between Fifield's probe and his hole, that strange man was good at conferences, but there was some urgency to demonstrate the experiment. His layback attitude masked a mind which can follow clues because as soon as Milburn hands were withdrawn from his palpitant rod, Fifield guide his fellow scholar toward the surface of the table, bending him in order to carry on with the insertion of the instrument and the measure of the force.  
  
"What was your field, again?" Milburn rested his head on his arms to avoid breaking his laboratory glassware.  
  
"Geology," Fifield said, his hand between Milburn's legs cupped his balls, "I deal with rocks and faults," his solid road was rubbed between Milburn's buttocks, "My work is to understand how the layers came together," Without pause, the geologist put the metaphor in action, and then, with a pleased sigh added: "and how their compressional forces work."  
  
Milburn's lips formed a great O, not in wonderment but in gleefully recognition of his abilities to take measurements. The empirical demonstration proved the tool adequate for the experiment. For the next quarter of hour, Fifield gave him a lesson on tremors, insertions and displacements; he occasionally whispered some words with the heat of core magma until the area of igneous activity erupted with lava flow.  
  
Geology proved to be a wonderful field of knowledge; Milburn thought about it as Fifield nuzzled his neck and caressed his chin, in wake of the earthquake.  
  
"Tobacco?" The particular aroma of ashes came to his nose as Fifield retired what once was a rigid structure from Milburn's body.  
  
"Hmmm..."  
  
"Is there tobacco smoke on your shirt?"  
  
"Yes," a little chuckles, an affectionate pat on the naked rump, "Tobacco. Thank you for the scholarly talk."  
  
"Anytime..."  
  
Fifield kissed his nose and let him gather his wits in peace. He didn't say another word; words were irrelevant at the moment...


End file.
